It has been more then a year since my last post, and so much has happened. In a nutshell, we moved home to Samoa, (big headache- moving!!! never want to move again!LOL) i started work at the local hospital (shock horror, kinda expected, but didn't make the blow any easier- word to the wise, go for a jog...you don't want to get sick in Samoa!!) I fell pregnant (actually found out while we were moving over- yay! ..we had almost given up trying!) the first 6 months of my pregnancy i worked (:( ) and had to live away from my husband as he was working in Savaii- where we were eventually planning to make our new home. never want to do that again..talk about do long distance for 6 years before we got married , then finally get married and think you never have to spend another day apart, and then have to do 6 months apart, and pregnant!!:)
NEWAYS- then I went on maternity leave- yay!! was heavily pregnant by then, and the inconveniences of our hospital as a work environment, such as having to walk to and from the lab 4 times a day to chase up results that were marked "urgent" like 5 hours ago!! was really taking its toll on me, mah back and mah big belly!!! so put my legs up in savaii for the following 2 months, baking every muffin,scone, cake and bread known to man to keep me occupied (not to mention- eating it too!!LOL)...sounds glorious doesn't it? well it was for like 2 weeks..then i really started feeling like i was going a bit nuts..without friends to talk to, or movies to go to..baking can only keep you ticking for so long!!LOL!
Finally, the time came where I finally got to go back to NZ ,to have mah bubba. Up until then, the pregnancy was smooth sailing, not a cloud in the sky the whole way, wasn't sick, didn't get swollen ankles, a bit of lethargy and that was it. My check ups in NZ were all great, until. My due date came and went, and still no sign of ms muffet coming...a week or two went by...talks of inducing me and having extra scans kept me busy. Then one night the contractions came...they hurt like a B+%$*! but were 10 minutes apart..so hosp wasn't interested...by morning they had spaced out to about 20-25minutes....for a whole day.Then at night they sped up to 7 minutes apart..hosp still not interested (they said- call us when they're 3 minutes apart, drink water, take panadol) anyways- this saga went on for 4 days! I was exhausted, mentally frustrated, concerned... anyways, to cut a long story short, this saga ends up with me having a blooming emergency caserian section. Up until the moment they told me I needed it, I had kept my cool...I had been in hosp in labour for almost a whole day, had breathed through the most painful contractions in the world for a good six hours without yelling or swearing or crying....then I was told it had to be done.I had no choice. It was an emergency. Then I cried. Smooth sailing for 9 months...all to result in this. Although I knew very well it was for the best...it was still hard to swallow.It still made me feel like some sort of failure...even though I know, had this scenario been 100 years ago...it could have resulted in tragedy with the lack of the c-section option. I still however, felt that me and my body had failed this one female god given process...and you cant shake off the feeling that you brought it upon yourself somehow.Could I just mention, as an insert into this storey, how painful and upsetting it is, when people ask , if i birthed 'naturally' only to frown and look disappointed when I say no, I had to have a c-ser. Like I had some choice, like I wanted it to be this way. that when they go on to talk about how ' I had it easy' I want to clobber them over the head with a bat, as my labour was anything but easy...and that I did actually suffer the god given pain of contractions- for 4 DAYS damn you!:) that its actually really hurtful to me...to be spoken to like that...that it really doesn't make me feel any better when they go on about who and who had a 'natural birth' which was really good... it makes me want to cry...that is what i wanted... some sensitivity would be nice...
We (our little family) ended up spending Christmas in the hospital, cause we had to stay in for 5 days before they let us go home. Those days were kind of depressing. I missed my family, every moment my husband left me, I missed him. I was scared in a way with alot of things involving looking after bubba- everything was new to me, and no amount of reading material could have prepared me enough to feel confident about what I was doing. When we finally got to leave,a sigh of relief was expelled. But still, it was only to an empty flat in sandringham..while we awaited my munchkins papers to get done.Only when we set foot in Samoa, on the 3rd of January 2008, did I finally feel relaxed and OK.
Since that day, my little bubba is growing into a beautiful little girl. She is the apple of my eye, and my whole world revolves around her now (her and my husband of course!!!) every moment of her little life has been fascinating...all her little silly achievements like holding her head up and discovering her hands...I've deciphered her little cries and whimpers ...its an art you know...decoding the 'I'm tired' 'I'm hungry' 'I'm wet' 'i just want to be cuddled' whimpers!!! i find my so called motherly instincts take me over, with an aggressiveness that is a tad bit scary!!LOL! when visitors (other then close family!LOL) swaddle her and stand over (and frighten!) her...you should see me, i have eyes at the back of my head..you think I'm making coffee...but I'm actually watching my daughter, the moment her eyes tell me she is not a happy camper with all the commotion...I'm there...its mom to the rescue!! ha ha!! but don't worry..I'm exaggerating the possessive mom storey...but it does have some truth in it!!LOL!
The next dilemma in my life now..is work...6 months ago.. I signed leave forms that said I would be up and ready to go back to full time work in march..when munchkin was 2 months old. Now I know how naive I was. now I can not even imagine having to leave her with someone else...if it was a grandma or an immediate rely that would be OK. but we've kinda got no one here in savaii. Its me or a worker....and I just cant imagine leaving her with someone who might not be able to decipher her cries or give her enough attention and love. Now I just want to stay here and look after her myself, until she is up and ready for school!!!LOL! in saying that I badly do want to work, the longer is stay away the more i think i forget...which is not good in medicine. not to mention Savaii is extremely extremely short of docs. up to now...I still don't really know what I'm gonna do :)
To end this post I just wanted to say..that living in savaii is peaceful. The evenings are particularly tranquil..with pink skies and sounds of church bells and chickens ...our family often spend it sitting out on the lawn looking out to the islands of Upolu, Apolima and Manono (that's our view!) sipping on coke (for me!) and beer...chatting about the happenings of the day. At the mo, my munchkin spends that time often sleeping in her pram...but I'm sure soon enough she'll have little legs that can run faster then I would like and a mouth to keep me occupied!! I cant wait....
the end.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
sighhhh.....when tears are shed, at least they evaporate and water the world again...
When an everyday occurrence in your line of work, includes making people cry...after a while you can't help but feel like a jerk. In my line of work, I see tears just about every other day. In my patients, in relatives....these people are grandfathers and grandmothers, kids and grandkids, neighbors and friends. I knew it was coming, we were 'taught' how to handle these situations in school. At first I used to try really hard not to shed tears myself. I always thought I had to look strong and be supportive and sympathetic. And I have to say I have done well. I have probably welled up inside a handful of times, but only ever let the rivers of Jordan flow once.
I don’t think that is anything to be proud of or sing as some sort of victory, but its one of those things you've got to do. If I cried every time I saw someone struggle (like I do on the inside cos I am a big sook!) and they saw me cry, perhaps they would think that 'I' thought their prognosis was bad and then give up. Its one of those things where you know someone is suffering, but you have to be strong, so that they remain strong and positive, and remain warriors. Studies have shown that patients who are positive and go in fighting- always tend to have better outcomes then their counterparts who remain feeling hopeless and seemingly give up- for whatever bizarre reason -when a very ill person says in their head, this is it.. I give up, more often then not, they tend to fade away pretty soon after. So we try not to give people the impression that all is lost, even when we know...that their chances are dim.
Today I watched on with 6 other people (daily gaggle of ward round people, 3 docs, nurse, physio, social worker...etc) as a 75 year old man cried. He cried because he was a victim of his own body failing him. He has pretty advanced Parkinson’s and Dementia...and slowly he loses not only the function of his body, but his sanity. At present his mind flickers in and out of sense, but you can tell by looking in his eyes that he fights it with every single muscle in his body. He can answer simple yes/no questions appropriately, but once he starts to speak in sentences his mind soon wanders and before you know it, he is making no sense at all.
The heartbreaking thing is you can tell, he knows it. Throughout his 'mumbo jumbo' talk he will say things like "my mind is all nonsense" and things like "who would want me anyways, my wife should divorce me" (wife is sole carer- no kids, and does everything to prevent him from going into a rest home). When we try to tell him that the reason he is in hospital( because he forgets) is that his health, including his Parkinson’s is getting worse, he will look up at us, then look down at his feet and cuts us off and says " I would rather not know, thank you"...
Yesterday he became unwell with tummy pain, and we discovered he had difficulty going to the toilet and his bladder was extremely distended. He needed a catheter. When I went to tell him he was floridly confused, counting 1- 20 repeatedly and making no sense at all. But the moment I mentioned catheter he stopped, looked at me and said hurriedly “I have the right to refuse! I have the right to refuse!" through all his mumbo-jumbo he still tried his hardest to keep his dignity, despite knowing he was in pain and needed intervention. Eventually he agreed, but not before breaking down and crying in front of me. I felt like a jerk, making a grown man cry. Not just a grown man but a man who had experienced this world 3 times my lifespan including WW2. I felt so insignificant next to this man, and felt like a jerk for stripping him of his last few bits of dignity.
Today we also had a 30 yr old woman cry, she had developed this weird lump around her neck mysteriously over the last few weeks. She has had numerous scans and test done and so far no one can really tell her what it is, so we are having to send her on to another specialist centre. All day she has been sat on the ward, and everytime you go to chat to her you can see her throat gets all choked up and her nose goes all red and eyes water up. She is scared she has cancer, and she may well have. I try to be supportive, though also try not to falsely re-assure her. But there is really only one phrase that will take her ache away. She wants someone to tell her, her with her 3 young kids, that this is not a cancer. And nothing I can say or do from the bedside can help. I want to cry with her, but of course...for her sake, I don’t.
The only person so far, as a patient, that I have had to remove myself from the situation (ward) to cry for, was this little old tokelauen man. He was in his early 70s, and had 8 wonderful kids, all grown with their own families. He was crippled later in life from a nasty illness but had managed, despite having a wife who also developed dementia, to keep his independence and remain in his own home. His kids had developed a fearsome roster of care. So that they all took turns everyday of the week caring and providing for their parents with only the help of a district nurse once a day. He presented to hospital, only because a skin condition which he had, had flared up and was quite painful. To cut a long story short, that presentation to hospital, unknown to him, was his pitfall. Despite initially clearing up his skin, the hospital would not let him leave.
The managers and social services and government organizations were not happy with the home situation. They found it appalling, how could this crippled man and demented woman NOT be in a rest home with hospital care?? They were shocked that his family 'had to do' all his cares and showering and feeding etc. His house was deemed "unfit" for them both , there were no ramps and the corridors were too small and who was to stop his wife from wandering out the door and into oncoming traffic?? In the end, it took months to slowly get things into place.
They used me to translate alot cos the old man spoke no English, and only Samoan and Tokelauen. The old man, who was really on top of his game, intellect wise, could not understand. Tell them our pacific people don’t go into resthomes he said, tell them I have 8 kids, goodness they are going to look after me to the day I die he said. I tried to advocate for him, but "they" would not have it. They got ramps put in and hoists in the shower and a toilet by his bed and people to go in and check on them (because he refused to go to a resthome) special wheelchairs and beds with wheels, there were alot of delays because equiptment had to come from south island and australia etc etc, and in the meantime, he probably caught a nasty hospital bug from some other sick patient, and died in the hospital, still waiting patiently- to just go home to his wife.
He had asked me every single day, every single morning, when would he go home. He told me to tell 'them' he missed his wife, and he would be fine, not to worry about him. One morning I came to work and he literally took his last few breaths. My team stood around humming and haaing and trying to make it out as if it were a good thing, he had suffered with his illness and was old and weary, the tears turned on like a tap that day, no- more like a burst pipe on the side of the road someone had accidentally put a sapelu through. I had to leave because I was so angry. I was sad and angry and horrified. Horrified because he had not go to die in his own home, with his old and demented wife whom he had loved and missed so much. That he had spent the last few miserable months of his life, in a stale and lonely hospital room, waiting for beuracacy to tell him how to live his life.
Anyways, so thats my crybaby story, as for today, ia..I have had enough of my share of tears...now I am going to have a shower, make some dinner, and try to shake off my work invisible jacket, which carries so many woes, and watch "Americas Funniest home videos" ..and try to laugh.
I don’t think that is anything to be proud of or sing as some sort of victory, but its one of those things you've got to do. If I cried every time I saw someone struggle (like I do on the inside cos I am a big sook!) and they saw me cry, perhaps they would think that 'I' thought their prognosis was bad and then give up. Its one of those things where you know someone is suffering, but you have to be strong, so that they remain strong and positive, and remain warriors. Studies have shown that patients who are positive and go in fighting- always tend to have better outcomes then their counterparts who remain feeling hopeless and seemingly give up- for whatever bizarre reason -when a very ill person says in their head, this is it.. I give up, more often then not, they tend to fade away pretty soon after. So we try not to give people the impression that all is lost, even when we know...that their chances are dim.
Today I watched on with 6 other people (daily gaggle of ward round people, 3 docs, nurse, physio, social worker...etc) as a 75 year old man cried. He cried because he was a victim of his own body failing him. He has pretty advanced Parkinson’s and Dementia...and slowly he loses not only the function of his body, but his sanity. At present his mind flickers in and out of sense, but you can tell by looking in his eyes that he fights it with every single muscle in his body. He can answer simple yes/no questions appropriately, but once he starts to speak in sentences his mind soon wanders and before you know it, he is making no sense at all.
The heartbreaking thing is you can tell, he knows it. Throughout his 'mumbo jumbo' talk he will say things like "my mind is all nonsense" and things like "who would want me anyways, my wife should divorce me" (wife is sole carer- no kids, and does everything to prevent him from going into a rest home). When we try to tell him that the reason he is in hospital( because he forgets) is that his health, including his Parkinson’s is getting worse, he will look up at us, then look down at his feet and cuts us off and says " I would rather not know, thank you"...
Yesterday he became unwell with tummy pain, and we discovered he had difficulty going to the toilet and his bladder was extremely distended. He needed a catheter. When I went to tell him he was floridly confused, counting 1- 20 repeatedly and making no sense at all. But the moment I mentioned catheter he stopped, looked at me and said hurriedly “I have the right to refuse! I have the right to refuse!" through all his mumbo-jumbo he still tried his hardest to keep his dignity, despite knowing he was in pain and needed intervention. Eventually he agreed, but not before breaking down and crying in front of me. I felt like a jerk, making a grown man cry. Not just a grown man but a man who had experienced this world 3 times my lifespan including WW2. I felt so insignificant next to this man, and felt like a jerk for stripping him of his last few bits of dignity.
Today we also had a 30 yr old woman cry, she had developed this weird lump around her neck mysteriously over the last few weeks. She has had numerous scans and test done and so far no one can really tell her what it is, so we are having to send her on to another specialist centre. All day she has been sat on the ward, and everytime you go to chat to her you can see her throat gets all choked up and her nose goes all red and eyes water up. She is scared she has cancer, and she may well have. I try to be supportive, though also try not to falsely re-assure her. But there is really only one phrase that will take her ache away. She wants someone to tell her, her with her 3 young kids, that this is not a cancer. And nothing I can say or do from the bedside can help. I want to cry with her, but of course...for her sake, I don’t.
The only person so far, as a patient, that I have had to remove myself from the situation (ward) to cry for, was this little old tokelauen man. He was in his early 70s, and had 8 wonderful kids, all grown with their own families. He was crippled later in life from a nasty illness but had managed, despite having a wife who also developed dementia, to keep his independence and remain in his own home. His kids had developed a fearsome roster of care. So that they all took turns everyday of the week caring and providing for their parents with only the help of a district nurse once a day. He presented to hospital, only because a skin condition which he had, had flared up and was quite painful. To cut a long story short, that presentation to hospital, unknown to him, was his pitfall. Despite initially clearing up his skin, the hospital would not let him leave.
The managers and social services and government organizations were not happy with the home situation. They found it appalling, how could this crippled man and demented woman NOT be in a rest home with hospital care?? They were shocked that his family 'had to do' all his cares and showering and feeding etc. His house was deemed "unfit" for them both , there were no ramps and the corridors were too small and who was to stop his wife from wandering out the door and into oncoming traffic?? In the end, it took months to slowly get things into place.
They used me to translate alot cos the old man spoke no English, and only Samoan and Tokelauen. The old man, who was really on top of his game, intellect wise, could not understand. Tell them our pacific people don’t go into resthomes he said, tell them I have 8 kids, goodness they are going to look after me to the day I die he said. I tried to advocate for him, but "they" would not have it. They got ramps put in and hoists in the shower and a toilet by his bed and people to go in and check on them (because he refused to go to a resthome) special wheelchairs and beds with wheels, there were alot of delays because equiptment had to come from south island and australia etc etc, and in the meantime, he probably caught a nasty hospital bug from some other sick patient, and died in the hospital, still waiting patiently- to just go home to his wife.
He had asked me every single day, every single morning, when would he go home. He told me to tell 'them' he missed his wife, and he would be fine, not to worry about him. One morning I came to work and he literally took his last few breaths. My team stood around humming and haaing and trying to make it out as if it were a good thing, he had suffered with his illness and was old and weary, the tears turned on like a tap that day, no- more like a burst pipe on the side of the road someone had accidentally put a sapelu through. I had to leave because I was so angry. I was sad and angry and horrified. Horrified because he had not go to die in his own home, with his old and demented wife whom he had loved and missed so much. That he had spent the last few miserable months of his life, in a stale and lonely hospital room, waiting for beuracacy to tell him how to live his life.
Anyways, so thats my crybaby story, as for today, ia..I have had enough of my share of tears...now I am going to have a shower, make some dinner, and try to shake off my work invisible jacket, which carries so many woes, and watch "Americas Funniest home videos" ..and try to laugh.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Christmas!
My Hubby and I had nothing planned for this christmas. We were both so depressed about not being able to spend it at home, neither of us could bother planning anything. So the friday before xmas we decide, at the very last minute, to go on a road trip! Ultimately Monday would be spent with the FamBams ( Hubbys' cousins in auckland) but we would spend a night in Rotorua on the way up and a night in Tauraga on the way down. So that was Fabulosoooo! Beats staying at home kuikui gifo-ing!!
Interesting bits re: the road trip?
1) It took us freaken 10 hours to get to Rotorua becooooossss---- we left Wellington at 11am, and hit 3 jams in 3 different little towns who were having their midday christmas parade...yup...3hours just to get outa wairarapa....bugger. So of course we arrive in Roto-vegas too late to do anything, basically eat , shower, sleep, wake up the next day, eat again, and head off for Auckland... (what a waste!)
2) We arrive in Auckland, and the room we are given ( with the fams) has a green skirt and ie faikaga waiting for us on the bed.?? hmm...whaa?? we quickly find out, the old lady of the fams had them sewn for us in the last few hours when she heard we were coming. The family were peforming an item at the church xmas service and we had been made honorary members!!hoh! thus poi and I's outfits...... (like OMG!!)
3) So.....within an hour I find myself on a stage at a church I have never been to, shoved to the front of the choir coz I am short (damned them genes! :) ) singing songs I have never heard of before, trying to act as if it were the 100th time I had done it!LOL! ( all that was going through my head at the time was my year 6 singing teacher's voice (ms solomona) going "fa'amaga le guku as if o gae ofi ai le fuamoa when you are singing!!"..so awkwardly found myself doing just that !LOL!)
4) The service was 3.5hours..yes, and I was there for the entire thing!!! But as much as it dragged on far too long, it was entertaining. My favourite performance was this one family, See all the performances were just the different families in the church doing a few christmas carols...and from the way the night was going, it was all about whos family had more people on the stage and the loudest choir with the most number of instruments being played at any one time!.
So this one family gets up, and there is only a mere hand ful of people ( compared to everyone else who had no less then 20 persons up there) the old man comes to the front, and starts a little speech which goes ( in samoan of course) Firstly, I would like to apologise that all you see up here are women, and me. ( looking at his feet and shaking his head) For the last 10 years I have been trying to get my sons to come to church, but they insist they only need to send their wives..and their sins will be forgiven ( nodding his head still) then I also apologise that their are still others missing. Only this morning I have been informed that my youngest daughter, has a boyfriend, and they have eloped to Australia to be married ( shaking his head still ) of course no one was invited.
Then he goes on about not having time to practice the songs he wants and not having a pianist. They start singing, and only a quater into the song -half of them sorta die off, as if they dont know the words and the old man looks like his face is going to fall...and then some people in the back start cheering them on, and singing along with them, and before you know it, the whole church is humming along with them, the old man and his choirs' faces all had smiles (mines tears!!LOL) and it was just the most beautiful thing ever. I think what made it great was the fact that it was acapella, no instruments, no fancy radio in the background, just pure singing...and it was lovely.!
anyways that was that. The rest of christmas was what you'd expect...eating heaps of BBQ and kalo, drinking, catching up with people I havent seen in ages, calling my fams overseas to wishem a merry christmas and ask what they're all having for lunch!! Ok guys, hope you all had a festive one too !! ciao later and look foward to reading all your xmas blogs!
Interesting bits re: the road trip?
1) It took us freaken 10 hours to get to Rotorua becooooossss---- we left Wellington at 11am, and hit 3 jams in 3 different little towns who were having their midday christmas parade...yup...3hours just to get outa wairarapa....bugger. So of course we arrive in Roto-vegas too late to do anything, basically eat , shower, sleep, wake up the next day, eat again, and head off for Auckland... (what a waste!)
2) We arrive in Auckland, and the room we are given ( with the fams) has a green skirt and ie faikaga waiting for us on the bed.?? hmm...whaa?? we quickly find out, the old lady of the fams had them sewn for us in the last few hours when she heard we were coming. The family were peforming an item at the church xmas service and we had been made honorary members!!hoh! thus poi and I's outfits...... (like OMG!!)
3) So.....within an hour I find myself on a stage at a church I have never been to, shoved to the front of the choir coz I am short (damned them genes! :) ) singing songs I have never heard of before, trying to act as if it were the 100th time I had done it!LOL! ( all that was going through my head at the time was my year 6 singing teacher's voice (ms solomona) going "fa'amaga le guku as if o gae ofi ai le fuamoa when you are singing!!"..so awkwardly found myself doing just that !LOL!)
4) The service was 3.5hours..yes, and I was there for the entire thing!!! But as much as it dragged on far too long, it was entertaining. My favourite performance was this one family, See all the performances were just the different families in the church doing a few christmas carols...and from the way the night was going, it was all about whos family had more people on the stage and the loudest choir with the most number of instruments being played at any one time!.
So this one family gets up, and there is only a mere hand ful of people ( compared to everyone else who had no less then 20 persons up there) the old man comes to the front, and starts a little speech which goes ( in samoan of course) Firstly, I would like to apologise that all you see up here are women, and me. ( looking at his feet and shaking his head) For the last 10 years I have been trying to get my sons to come to church, but they insist they only need to send their wives..and their sins will be forgiven ( nodding his head still) then I also apologise that their are still others missing. Only this morning I have been informed that my youngest daughter, has a boyfriend, and they have eloped to Australia to be married ( shaking his head still ) of course no one was invited.
Then he goes on about not having time to practice the songs he wants and not having a pianist. They start singing, and only a quater into the song -half of them sorta die off, as if they dont know the words and the old man looks like his face is going to fall...and then some people in the back start cheering them on, and singing along with them, and before you know it, the whole church is humming along with them, the old man and his choirs' faces all had smiles (mines tears!!LOL) and it was just the most beautiful thing ever. I think what made it great was the fact that it was acapella, no instruments, no fancy radio in the background, just pure singing...and it was lovely.!
anyways that was that. The rest of christmas was what you'd expect...eating heaps of BBQ and kalo, drinking, catching up with people I havent seen in ages, calling my fams overseas to wishem a merry christmas and ask what they're all having for lunch!! Ok guys, hope you all had a festive one too !! ciao later and look foward to reading all your xmas blogs!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
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